I'll never admit this out loud to anyone in my real life, but I do regret marrying someone from a different culture and ethnicity. I feel ashamed even writing that, but it's the truth.
The hardest part is his own self-hatred. Over time, l've realized he didn't really choose me because of who l am, but because I'm white. He has said many times that he'd never marry someone of his own ethnicity. I was only 21 when we met, and I didn't fully understand what that meant.
Having kids changed everything. There's no romance anymore. Sex maybe once every two months, and I can feel that he's forcing himself. His energy and attention all go to our kids. No gifts, no surprises - he even forgot my birthday this year. Maybe that isn't cultural, but l do feel like in his country being "the devoted father" is almost glorified, like that's the whole identity of a man after having kids.
And then there are his parents. If I started writing about how condescending, toxic, and controlling they became after the baby, it would take hours. They are obsessed with our children. Some of it is cultural, some of it is just them being awful people. They pressure him constantly. I overheard his mom saying at least 20 times how "his eyes are too small, thank god now her grandkids have beautiful eyes just like her." It made me sick.
I don't regret him as the father of my kids. He is wonderful with them, even if he's anxious about the smallest things. He does his best and I still love him. But the cultural differences, his obsession with race, and his self-hatred weigh so heavily on me. I love our children more than anything, but sometimes I feel sad for them because of the way he talks.
One time, I don't even know how the topic came up, I said something like "people might see our kids as Asian" and he replied, "yes, and you know that for most people here looking Asian IS a bad thing, it's not something to be proud of." That crushed me. It stuck in my head for days, and I couldn't stop thinking about it when I looked at my kids. I've never seen them like that, never thought of them that way — the thought alone tortured me.
On the outside, we look like a beautiful family: bilingual, two cultures, good jobs, a stable life.
But inside, l'm not happy anymore. His issues are dragging me down. I've lost confidence. I’ve stopped trying to comfort him, it’s a lost cause. It’s never good enough, it’s never perfect enough, he will never be satisfied. Only our kids bring me joy and keep me going and I’ll do my best to make them happy.
